Page 7

OLIVIA

I have a bitch of a hangover this morning, and the room is far too bright.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead! It’s time to get up!”

If I had the energy, I’d punch Vanessa. Unfortunately, the only thing I’m capable of is moaning and pulling the blankets over my head.

My friend laughs and tugs them back down. “I told you this was going to happen,” she chides. “I can’t believe you drank so much. That’s very unlike you.”

I go to speak, but my mouth is so dry that my tongue is practically stuck to the roof of my mouth. When I finally pry it loose and open one eye, I croak out, “I told you. Bad day. That stupid eulogy really did a number on me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, it’s perfect. Mrs. Serrano is going to love it and so is everyone else.”

“I still wish I didn’t have to do it.”

“Because he was your ex and you’ll always have negative feelings for him?”

Groaning, I force myself to sit up. “No, Van. Because he’s dead. I hate the fact that Matt is dead. I thought that was obvious.”

“Oh. Right.” She sits down on the corner of the guest room bed with a sad smile. “Believe me, we’re all still in shock and yet…not. Does that make sense?”

I nod and try to prop up the pillows behind me.

“There’s a bottle of water and some ibuprofen on the nightstand for you. I had a feeling you weren’t going to be feeling great this morning.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“But you’ll be happy to know your luggage arrived. It was out on the front porch when I got up.”

“Thank God.” Because as if all the other travel crap wasn’t enough, when I landed in Raleigh, my luggage wasn’t there.

Apparently, it never made the connection in Denver.

I had vented loudly to the lost luggage attendant how that wasn’t humanly possibly since we were on the ground in Denver for hours, but it didn’t matter.

No matter how angry I got, the fact was that my luggage wasn’t coming in until the next flight and it wasn’t landing until almost midnight.

“That’s good news to wake up to, right?”

Her voice is overly cheery and it hurts my brain. “I suppose.”

Her expression softens. “Look, I get that yesterday sucked, and all this stuff for Matt’s funeral has been a huge downer.”

“Let’s not forget the writer’s block,” I mumble, reaching for the water.

“Liv, come on. Work with me. For the next four weeks, we have my family’s beach house all to ourselves! You’ll have plenty of time to rest and unwind, and then I can practically guarantee you’ll finally find the words and start writing again.”

I swallow the ibuprofen and glance at her. “You make it sound easy, but you have no idea…”

Vanessa sighs loudly and I can already sense her irritation. “You’ve been bitching about this for far too long and I’m helping you the only way I know how. You’ve always said the beach helps you relax and how the sound of the waves clears your mind. Now you’re going to have a month of that!”

“How did you manage to get an entire month at the house? Doesn’t anyone else in your family want to use it?”

“I had to pull a few strings, but once I explained about Matt and the funeral and how you were finally coming back to visit, everyone sort of agreed to let me have it. Plus, teaching was a bitch this year and I really deserve this time away.”

Both Vanessa and Loren are teachers. I swear I’m in awe of them because I don’t think I could ever do what they do. To be responsible for so many kids and keep track of it all is beyond impressive.

“Bad year, huh?”

“Please, you have no idea. Third graders are brutal. They’re just getting confident in who they are and deciding if they like school or not.

My biggest issue though is the parents. Getting them on the same page is so much harder than I thought it would ever be.

” Then she grins, and in an extremely dramatic narration says, “There’s the suspense element for your new book!

Will the parents cooperate with the teacher?

Will she get them to follow her rules?” She falls back against the mattress with a heavy sigh, her hand draped over her forehead, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Bravo! And while that is truly the beginnings of some riveting storytelling, it’s lacking the romantic part of the suspense.”

But God, do I love that she’s trying.

Sitting back up, she gives me a wicked grin. “I’m just happy to be a bit of an inspiration for you.” Jumping off the bed, she holds out her hand to me. “Now come on. It’s going to be a hell of a day, and I feel like we need to start it off with waffles.”

“And coffee?” I ask weakly as I gingerly kick the blankets off.

“Yes, sweet pea. And coffee. Come on. Loren and Roxie are on their way over to join us.”

I’m smiling without even realizing it, and I’m suddenly feeling a bit revived. My girls are all going to be here and we’re going to have breakfast together. It’s the best thing in the world I can think of right now.

“Go and do what you’ve got to do,” Van tells me. “Then meet me in the kitchen!”

“We’re staying in jammies, right?”

“Definitely!”

I nearly sag with relief before padding to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I’m not even in there a minute before Van’s knocking on the door.

“I’m leaving your luggage outside the door. I figured you’d want to at least brush your teeth or run a brush through your hair! Coffee in five!”

So I quickly brush my teeth and then deal with my hair, opting for another messy bun. I barely finish up when I hear the doorbell and then I’m so giddy that I can’t help but run to greet everyone.

“She’s here! She’s really here!” Loren screams excitedly before hauling me in for the tightest hug ever.

“I thought it was just a rumor!” Roxie chimes in, joining the hug.

“I told you guys she’d be here,” Van adds, piling on.

It’s the most perfect moment and all the worries and negativity I’ve been feeling just sort of melt away because…I’m home.

These three girls know me better than anyone. We’ve been friends since middle school, and I swear I feel more comfortable with them than I ever have with anyone I’m related to. And now that I’m here, I want to kick myself for staying away for so long.

“Come on,” Van says, gently prying us all apart. “Let’s take this into the kitchen. If we’re going to eat and get ready and be at the church by one, we need to get moving.”

Vanessa is like the mom of our group. Always has been and clearly always will be. She’s the one who is always practical and calm. She keeps us all in line even when I’m sure at times it’s like trying to herd cats—which is kind of how she’s gently maneuvering us with soft nudges and prods.

In the kitchen, Van is putting a platter of waffles on the table. Everyone’s coffee is already poured, and all that’s left for us to do is sit.

Which I gladly do.

“Okay, tell me everything about this trip,” I say excitedly. “How did everyone get a month away? What are we going to do with ourselves? Any big plans?”

“No, no, no,” Loren says, reaching for the syrup. “We can talk about that later. We need to know that you’re okay with the funeral today.”

“I still can’t believe Mrs. Serrano asked you to give the eulogy,” Roxie adds. “I mean…yikes. That was a bold move.”

“Were you able to come up with anything?” Loren asks. “I mean, that had to be really, really awkward.”

“Guys…ease up,” Vanessa tells them as she takes her seat. “Our girl wrote a beautiful eulogy that is sweet, with just a hint of brutal honesty.” Looking at me, she smiles. “I’m seriously so proud of you. I know I couldn’t have done it.”

“You also don’t write for a living,” Roxie reminds her.

“Okay, but just because she writes for a living doesn’t mean writing about her ex was easy,” Vanessa counters, and I feel like I’m watching a tennis match. “There’s a lot of emotion there—good and bad—but I think because Liv’s comfortable writing, it probably helped.”

“Especially because she writes fiction,” Loren adds with a snicker and a look of total amusement. “Did you have to enhance the eulogy with a little fiction? Come on, you can tell us. This is a safe space.”

I laugh—maybe a little too loudly—because she’s not wrong.

I totally had to embellish because most of my memories of Matt aren’t great.

There was no way I could write an entire speech where I told the truth, so I had to add some flourish so I wouldn’t, A.) Offend Matt’s family, and B.) Look and sound like a total bitch.

Honestly, I still can’t believe I’m going to have to stand up in front of a bunch of people and say it all out loud.

All three are staring at me and I realize I haven’t answered Loren’s question. In order to buy myself another minute, I shovel a large forkful of waffles into my mouth.

“That’s an admission of guilt if I ever saw one,” Roxie says matter-of-factly. “Livi, no one would blame you. If anything, we’re all shocked that you said yes to Mrs. Serrano.”

“Does anyone ever say no to Mrs. Serrano?” Loren asks thoughtfully before shrugging and sipping her coffee.

“I tried once,” Vanessa admits. “It didn’t go well.”

That opens the floor to sharing stories about Matt’s mom and I’m thankful for the reprieve.

While enjoying my waffle—which is so damn fluffy and delicious—I listen to the banter between my friends.

We’re all the perfect combination of love, snark, and sass.

We know when to be serious, we know when to lighten the mood, and we know when a bitch has gone too far.

We were thrown together in sixth grade when Mrs. Marino, our English teacher, made us work together on a report on Little Women .

The assignment had us reading the book together, creating a collaborative book review, and then staging a scene from the book as a skit.

To this day, it’s still the greatest school assignment I ever had.

We were all avid readers but had wildly distinct personalities. Roxie was the outspoken one. She had the most opinions on everything, from her thoughts on the book to how we presented our skit.